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‘Twas the night before Spring Weekend, when all thru A1 to P2,
Not a student in sight, with nothing to do;
The Dogs were nestled all snug in their bunks,
Eager to wake up at dawn to get drunk;
Too anxious to sleep, their hearts filled with wonder,
Of which among them would be first to chunder;
Salmon shorts hung in the closet with care
In hopes that graduation would soon be there;
And as I settled in for some light springtime snoozin’
To catch a little rest ‘fore a long day of boozin’
When on Jacob Drive there arose such a clatter,
I got up and looked to see what was the matter;
Out the window I saw through a blanket of fog
A man with a beard, at his feet a bulldog;
I dashed out the door, I couldn’t be quicker,
‘Twas ol’ John Bryant, arms laden with liquor!
The bottles, they clinked and the beer cans, they clanked;
His stumbling gait revealed how much he’d drank;
He put on a tank and let out a yell
To be heard from Salmo all the way to row L:
“Now! André, now! Franzia, now! Jack and Jim Beam!
On! Natty, on! Keystone, on! Burnett’s Whipped Cream!
From the Village rooftops to every lecture Hall,
Now drink away! Drink away! Drink away all!”
Then he called me over with a chuckle so hearty
And conjured a vision of the upcoming darty:
There were girls in sundresses splayed out on the lawn;
Freshmen, hunched over toilets, were already gone;
Fischer’s grand clock hands bathed in golden rays
While bros stumbled ‘neath in a deep drunken haze;
When 9ams somehow become optional
And up before noon is no longer possible.
In MRC classrooms, to professors’ chagrin,
Students sipped out of coffee cups filled all with gin;
From Tuesday night rentes and Thursdays at Effins,
Spring week had a many many lessons.
And Townhouse backyards, so dark and so ratty,
Shone with the luster of crushed cans of Natty;
From up in his tower Ron Machtley watched
All his happy Bulldogs, so free and debauched;
And I knew, swaying in the fair April weather,
How liquor and sun brings the whole school together.
But then Tupper gave out a quick bark,
And this glorious vision soon faded to dark;
John Bryant bent down and rubbed the dog’s head,
And before they both vanished, a few words he said;
Grumblin’ and mumblin’ was all that I heard;
He was pretty wasted, his speech was so slurred;
But as to his meaning, well, I have a hunch:
“Happy Spring Weekend to all, to all you drunk bunch!”